South of Superior - Ellen Airgood [76]
Another look flashed in Gladys’s eyes—surprise, pleasure—but nevertheless she said, “That’s all daydreaming. It sounds nice but it won’t pay the bills. This is my fault. I never should have sent you in there. It’s a white elephant.”
Arbutus shot a curious glance at Gladys: When did you send Madeline in there, and why? This was why Madeline didn’t like secrets. You got caught. An Uneasy feeling fluttered inside her about her own secret.
She didn’t try to explain the rest of it to them. She Understood that their arguments were valid but she wanted to do this as she’d never wanted to do anything, not even study art at the University. She was older now, and possessed of more ability to want. There was more depth to it, more poignancy. She didn’t have forever anymore. No one did. She had to try for the things she wanted now.
She would make one corner of the attic a studio; she would hang her paintings downstairs, if she had the guts. If she kept doing them. She would. She had painted through everything, the mess with Paul, the disaster with Arbutus, everything. A part of her that had been dead, or sleeping, was awake again. Something about McAllaster, the lake, the people, the light—she didn’t know exactly what and didn’t care to know, but she was painting. Maybe the pictures would sell and maybe not, but the life she made from these ingredients would be her own.
Secretly, in some ways, Gladys was tickled about Madeline’s idea. It was crazy and irrational, it wouldn’t work, and there were aspects to it she’d rather not think about, but—it was exciting. And the girl was so determined that there was no sense anymore in kicking against it. Gladys had talked herself blue trying to make her see sense, but Madeline would have none of it. She would have the hotel, she said. Well, maybe. There were miles to go before it was anything like a done deal. The best part of it at this point was Arbutus’s happiness, which was growing now that Madeline seemed so set on the idea, so sure. And the fact that the Bensons were furious. “You’ve got that Terry Benson spitting nails,” Mabel Brink told Gladys one afternoon, and Gladys felt a surge of pure, vengeful joy.
They were more livid still when they figured out that Gladys still had no intention of paying her bill. Madeline—such a worrywart—was surprised, too.
“But you’ll have the money!” she said one evening as they worked together fixing supper.
“If things work out. You haven’t sold your apartment yet, the appraisals aren’t done, nothing’s final. I still hope you’ll see sense and change your mind.”
Madeline looked nonplussed. But she said, “Things will work out. It’s crazy to go to court over this bill. You took the food out of the store and ate it, all except that one time. It’s a simple fact.”
“It’s the principal.”
Madeline sighed and let it go, but not for long. A few mornings later she tried again. “We should just pay and eat crow. Think of all the trouble it would save.”
“Who’s ‘we’?” Gladys didn’t bother to look Up. She was standing at the woodstove waiting for the coffee to boil, reading the paper, her head tipped Up to get a better view through her bifocals. Pesky things. But it beat not being able to see at all. She was reading the court news. She loved the court news.
“ ‘We’ is you and me,” Madeline said, sounding far too het Up for seven o’clock in the morning. So excitable. She’d taken after Jackie in that way, because Joe had never been like that. Sometimes she’d wished he would have shown his feelings more, but then, that was a man. “I’ll help pay the bill,” Madeline said, still yammering on over the Bensons. “God knows I’ve eaten enough since I got here.”
Gladys gave no response.
“Gladys!”
After a deliberate moment Gladys raised her eyes.
“Would you please pay attention?”
“No.” She folded the paper the other way, continued to read.
“No? No?! Gladys, look at me.” She didn’t, and Madeline actually growled. “Look. At. Me.”
Gladys sighed, feeling very much put Upon. She flicked her